In my personal experience, life is not convenient. Neither is it a convenience. It is a gift, given. That is not to say that it always feels like a present, because it doesn’t. However. Convenience tends to save time and that is why it is useful. Convenience is not to be confused with instant gratification, convenience is about making things easier to manage – or handle. It is not about making things immediately available to a planet consumed by its own inability to curb its inclination to take an arm when offered a hand. For instance, it is convenient to know that those you can trust are trustworthy. It is a convenience having an aptitude for diversity, too, particularly when you discover that you have been labelled the ‘Corner Store’.
Change is consistent, constant. It is not convenient – of that you can rest assured. Change causes a great many people a great deal of angst – pain, even. That is unfortunate. Change is not to be feared unless you are becoming a mutant or changing into a pillar of salt, for example, in which case you were probably not supposed to turn around. Change is inspiring in a life well-lived. It brings new perspectives, new world views and new ways of solving persistent issues mired in the denial that has become routine daily life. It is a privilege, though, to discover through ceaseless change how adaptable we are, how resilient our natures, and that is what makes it possible for us to transcend any reality we are handed – no matter how forcefully we are encouraged to ‘receive’ it.
A convenience store should stock everything that people usually forget to buy at other shops. Those ‘last-minute’ items none of us can do without. Like padkos, you know. Food for the trip. Or a beach towel, say. You never know when you might be visiting the beach. Should a convenience store sell beers? I would say yes, definitely, but I suspect it depends on where the convenience store is situated. A convenience store selling illicit beers in the UAE, for instance, would be liable for a hefty fine.
The phoenix rises, carrying her in his talons.
Monday 27 July 2015
It will not be the first time I have been in this predicament. It seems to be an occupational hazard. Luckily for me, the last time this shit hit my fan I had some wingmen to help me deflect the fallout. I cannot tell you how many I had – I did not take the time to count. I took the time to turn and take note of everything in this planet’s trash can. That was not a particularly delightful process but it needed doing and it is done. In part. The other bits are yet in the mix, we will see what comes out of that wash.
A love is a love is a love. That will never change. Unconditional can do that. So can pure Love. That makes 2 out of 3 that can. The rest – well, they will find out where they are when they get there. I won’t be there, so I don’t know. And that is not me being shitty, that is me saying it as I see it. I cannot do much more than that. If I say nothing, I am complicit in the shit that ravages this planet and I cannot be complicit in that since my objective is to save this place. Therefore – it would be counterproductive for me to sabotage my own projects. I mean that would just be stupid. I know this probably doesn’t sound much like a love letter, but it is. There are more than 5. :). But 5 for starters is good enough, after that I would suggest a 3 skip 2 and take 1. Like I add up a pie chart in colour. How is our business. Why is theirs’. The thing about Sparta is that it is for Spartans. Like other clubs are for other things. I do not think there is much point in finding out right now who exactly has done what, where. The fact that it is done is to me more mind-blowing than any stupid public opinion bullshit. This is unparalleled and I – for one – am not going to miss it. You can explain it any way you like. I really don’t mind. I am documenting my actuality – our reality – and I simply do not feel – or think – that small-minded bigots and narcissistic bitches (small b because they are SO common) with ‘CRITIC’ for a middle name have any say in this business whatsoever. They are an unnecessary distraction from what is actually of consequence and it is vital to get rid of the unnecessary so that the necessary can speak. Someone said that sometime.
Nice try. :). Batman. I will allow you to try on my bat catsuit. It is fluffy and pink. Ask him – he knows what is fluffy and pink with poles and bubbles. I think he is my business associate. :D. He is a very honourable man. That is what men are supposed to be. The Flying Knights were the Norse Gods II. Which came first is of consequence. If the Gods turned into shitty Knights then that is bad luck for them. If it is the other way around, then that can be considered a good outcome. Yes. And I said the next person that says ONE word about my life-work that I consider rude will get a slap. A fat one. My work may be different to what you are conditioned to understand about ‘working’ but that does not make it less taxing, or less demanding. I think we sometimes forget that as individuals with a tap into the collective unconscious we are all liable to suffer the residuals that accompany that tapping. That does not mean that your suffering is necessarily comparable to mine, or that mine is remotely comparable to yours – but it does mean that we have something in common. Common ground is always a good place to begin.
There are so many things that I wonder about. There are so many things I can understand. I am Alice. I am the Cat. Those are absolutely essential in this scheme of things. Not quite alter-egos, but aspects of quite a curious personality. Alice can think out of the box. That is necessary in Wonderland. I mean in Wonderland you can drown in a pool of your own tears if you cannot swim. Wonderland is necessary as an alternative reality to the one we currently find ourselves a part of. I think that is easy to understand. Our reality – although it IS improving – is hardly ideal. But I am not an idealist. Alice is. That is her prerogative. It takes an extraordinary level of concentration to keep a pure vision on track. Well – personally – I prefer pure to impure. Call me old-fashioned. I write what I want. I love what I love. I say what I like. That is karma. The wonderful thing about this world is that you get what you give. When you give is not of consequence in the immediacy – it depends on what you did last time around. That affects your future past. If you can adapt your now to amend your future past then you are in the pound-seats.
We can both see beyond. That is both a blessing and a curse. I choose to see more blessing in it. That is just me. I tend towards the positives. They give your wings, wings. Negatives get you nowhere. That is why I am a proton. Occasionally an electron gets in the way and neutrons are just that – neutrons. They sit on fences. Fences are fine until they are bulldozed down. Then if you are on one, you have a problem. You will see your arse.
Filed under blogs, C.J.Birch
Some realisations hit hard, like being knifed in the heart. Others flood your being with relief. It is the latter in which we – as a sentient people – find refuge. That refuge for a time provides respite, it strengthens us against the next onslaught of negativity. Negativity is bound to come and go, it is persistent in its attempts to contaminate the everyday. Let it come. Watch it go. That is how to build up your resistance. Practice does not necessarily guarantee perfection, but it gets you a lot closer to it than sitting wishing for expertise to strike you like lightning.
You will have realisations that cause you pain in this life. I suppose that is the sad reality. The happy reality is that one day you will come to realise that the pain was not a waste of time. Nothing ever is, if you do it properly. Your happy realisations will depend on who it is that you are. What makes us wholly happy as individuals is quite specific. What makes us sad is usually group therapy. As it happens.
Realisations, both good and bad, are vital for the growth of our understanding – they are never to be used for overstanding. When you learn something new, or you are shown a different way to do or improve something, you share that knowledge with those you know who will benefit from it. You do not waste time sharing it with those who do not need to know because for them there is no benefit in repetition. In fact, there is no point telling those people anything even once, but do it anyway. Their deafness is not your problem, but it will save you sleepless nights in your future past.
If it had been proven that being politically correct was a solution to the problems we face on this planet, I would have employed its ‘diplomacy’. It wasn’t. There are times when diplomacy is necessary, despite the idiots you may find yourself facing. And diplomatic means that you speak your mind with regard for your person and respect for another’s intelligence. It does not mean that you lie. When diplomacy goes out of the window it is a sure sign that the shit is going to hit the fan. When that fan is my face, you will know about it. Every single one of you.
I am certain that political correctness had good intentions. It was meant to dress up the mess of this planet in ribbons and bows for those whose sensitivity had already correctly identified it. That was perhaps a kind gesture. It was, though, counter-productive. It showed contempt for the people who have been listening to a ‘truth’ with the view of finding solutions. That this was in part unintentional – given that those who were preaching the bullshit did not know they had a sympathetic audience – is the only aspect that makes their lies acceptable. And white lies are called white lies for a reason. That is not to say that they are the only lies there are.
For those who may not know or understand political correctness for what it is, it is cowardice. Avoidance. It becomes a debilitating habit of telling a people what you think they want to hear instead of starting dialogue that addresses the real problems we all face. That can be as a result of the ‘partriarchal complex’ rife on this planet – one that we have been conditioned to accept. The belief that men are obligated to be the protectors on this planet. Not all of them are. Those that are not natural-born protectors – those who have misrepresented themselves as saviours – will be the ones who lie to you about your reality. They will do this for two reasons: either to save face, or to conceal their weaknesses, their actual inefficacy.
There are days here and there when I wonder what fantasy actually is. Apart from being a state of mind, it is clearly an ideal place to be at some stage in your daily thinking. Fantasy can be anything from reality right through to illusion – and everything in between. Fiction is not fantasy. Fantasy is very real. It takes an extraordinary level of concentration to maintain the purity of thought required for the creation – or the construction, if you like – of a flawless fantasy. It takes some practice, too.
Fantasy requires minds to find a steady stream of consciousness through which their ideal can be projected. To find the ideal you need to be a positive thinker. To find a steady stream is essential. Fantasies do not travel well under bumpy conditions. They are delicate in nature. Nature does not have fantasies about killing, or causing suffering to living things. There will be fantasies found about eating, feeding frenzies. About sex. That is perfectly natural. Nature takes time to build a fantasy with the reality; she does not waste time dreaming about pain.
Fantasies are for the bravehearts. For those that dare to think big. Small fantasies are not necessarily smaller than any bigger ones you may have along your way. It depends how deep small goes. How shallow your perception. When you understand the motivation behind a fanciful way of choosing to live, you will understand how absolutely essential the propagation of fantasy is as a very real – and viable – reality.
What is lost in translation? That is like asking: have you ever tried to find the tone in text? It is a skill you acquire with time. When you can identify and understand the intonations in every aspect of the spoken reality and you can read the resonance in the words that have explained this reality to you through their evolution, then you will be in the position to negotiate with yourself the ways of your world. Until that time, you are under the tutelage of your heart. That is not a bad thing.
What is lost in translation is made up for by the humour that is created during translating. That is called balance. It does occasionally lead to some misunderstandings, some miscommunications, but again, once you can read the tone in the words you will not need to worry too much about what precisely is being said. You need to get the gist of it, which is possible in any language. It just depends on what needs to be said.
When it comes to translating, it is preferable to have an interpreter. That interpreter should be fluent in the language(s) being spoken – fluent – otherwise he cannot possibly interpret, and then translate. It is not good when trying to interpret another’s words you put your own spin on them to round them out – or round them up – unless you are fluent in that person’s language. In that case, it is perfectly acceptable.
A trash can is filled with infinite possibilities. It is fortunate for infinite possibilities that most – in fact, virtually all – people assume that trash cans are filled with rubbish. They are not only keen to add their own shame, their own shit and their myriad fateful secrets slyly to the mix that has already been consigned to the dustbins of history, but they are also keen to deny these, their contributions. It is a pity for these people. Living in denial is no way to live.
When you understand discernment and you have developed an idea of how it is to be enterprising, you become capable of such things as making a golden goose from the shreds of yesterday’s feathers. You just have to know how to piece a goose together. That is possible when you have every tool at your fingertips – a privilege granted by the facility – or faculties, if you like – that one finds in dustbins when one takes the time to sift through the miles and miles of rotting refuse. When you are prepared to get your hands dirty, you get to look at what ‘civilisation’ has tossed away and you get to know how much goodness – greatness – therein lies. You also get to understand what a world of deceit this planet actually is. You can choose to let that reality get you down, or you can use what is left inside of you to rebuild yourself – if there is anything left now that you know your ‘civilised minds’ have thrown away everything worthwhile of yours’ that ever was.
I suspect that the best place to have been during these sleazy days and ages, is in the dustbin. That is where absolutely everything of consequence is. Lucky for the dustbin. It has the capacity, the facility, the faculties and the inclination to use every wonder it has discovered within itself to build a brand new something and leave this planet Earth and its people to mend itself, themselves. If they do not have the tools to do so – that is unfortunate. They will have to forge them from flint and sticks.